Are you a stress eater? Have you found ways to fend off this bad habit?
The Pruning Principle
2 years ago
Friday, February 27, 2009
Weekend Chat: Is the Economy Stressing Your Diet?
Last week I received a reporter's request about how this down economy has triggered weight gain in women. I've been on Weight Watchers for a year and so glad that I have been, because I might have fallen into that trap. I don't eat when I'm stressed, which can also add to weight gain. So this weekend's chatter box question is a little off topic, but does lend itself to a question of how strong is our faith?
Are you a stress eater? Have you found ways to fend off this bad habit?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today's Wild Card author is:
and the book:
Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court
Multnomah Books (February 17, 2009)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Chuck Black, a former F-16 fighter pilot and tactical communications engineer, is the author of eight novels, including the popular Kingdom series. He has received praise from parents across the country for his unique approach to telling biblical truths. His passion in life is to serve the Lord Jesus Christ and to love his wife, Andrea, and their six children. He lives with his family in North Dakota.Visit the author's website.
Product Details:
List Price: $8.99
Reading level: Ages 9-12
Paperback: 208 pages
Publisher: Multnomah Books (February 17, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1601421257
ISBN-13: 978-1601421258
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Young Noble
Knight
“Bentley of Chessington, do you swear to uphold the Articles of the Code, to defend Chessington and her citizens from enemies both outside and within her borders?” Lord Kifus’s voice echoed through the great hall of the palace.
“I do.” Young Bentley looked up at Kifus. Sand-colored hair formed loose curls around the young man’s neck and ears. His square, cleanshaven jaw revealed a small, faint scar—a badge to remind him never to become prideful about his considerable abilities as a swordsman. Bentley’s shoulders were broad, and he carried himself with the distinctive posture of a nobleman. In spite of his comely appearance and his social charm, however, Bentley did not hold himself in high regard, and thus there was very little to dislike about the young man.
“Do you swear to uphold the honor of the Noble Knights, placing the protection of your fellow brothers-in-arms above your own?”
“I do,” Bentley replied.
Nearly all two hundred Noble Knights were present to witness the knighting of one more squire into their brotherhood. It was a timehonored tradition that often followed the family lines of the wealthiest men in Chessington, and such was the case with Bentley. Behind the Noble Knights stood two to three hundred highly respected citizens of Chessington, for this was a significant event for both the Noble Knights and the citizenry.
“Do you take this oath without reservation, fully understanding the authority and responsibilities granted to you by the King—an oath that binds you to the order of the Noble Knights until death?”
Bentley hesitated, looking past Kifus toward the two men standing behind him. His father, Sir Barrington, and Sir York, the man who trained him at sword—his role model and his mentor. Could any two men be more different?
Bentley looked toward York and then to his father. A few seconds passed, and the delay became awkward. Barrington gazed at his son, smiled, and nodded. The room filled with tension, and Kifus’s gaze became stone hard.
Bentley looked back to the white-haired knightly leader, an icon of the perfect knight in many eyes. This was what Bentley had wanted his whole life, and yet something tugged upon his soul from another direction. It was those last few words that caused him to hesitate, for such an oath was a seal that would establish the course of his life forever.
He repeated the words in his mind:“Do you take this oath without reservation…an oath that binds you to the order of the Noble Knights until death?” What could be more honorable than service to the King?
“I do.” Bentley lowered his head in submission.
As if the doors of a flooded chamber had opened, the tension abated. Kifus lifted his brilliant silver sword to just above Bentley’s shoulder.
“Then I dub thee Sir Bentley, protector of Chessington and Noble Knight of the King!”
He touched the flat of the blade to each of Bentley’s shoulders, and a roar of shouts and acclamation filled the great hall. Bentley stood and Kifus offered his arm as a token of brotherhood.
“Well done, Sir Bentley. You are young but well deserving of the honor.”
“Thank you, Lord Kifus.”
Kifus turned to greet some of the approaching prestigious knights and citizens. Bentley’s father stepped forward and embraced his son.
“I am proud of you, my son.” Barrington smiled broadly through
his cropped salt-and-pepper beard.
“Thank you, Father. You and you alone have been my inspiration.”
York stepped forward and grasped Bentley’s arm.
“Sir Bentley…has a nice ring to it, aye, laddie?” He slapped Bentley hard on the shoulder with a meaty palm. Bentley bowed his head toward York.
“I am indebted to you for all the training you have given me, sir.”
York’s smile vanished as his mind seemed to return to a former preoccupation.
“Aye, and ye’ll be needing those skills in the days to come. The Followers continue to be a menace to our cause, and Kifus tells me our missions to eradicate them will increase.”
“Yes, sir,” Bentley replied, but something in his heart resisted the words. “What was it like before?”
York squinted and cocked his head to one side.
“Before the…ah…Followers?” Bentley added. It was an unusual question, and it conveyed much more than curiosity. Those few words carried a subtle message that raised the eyebrows of both York and his father. York looked back and forth between Barrington and Bentley.When he spoke, his words vibrated with passion. “It was a time when the authority of the Noble Knights was never questioned! That’s why we must fight well in coming days. The lingering effects of that dead Stranger will end, and we will restore the order of the Noble Knights to its rightful place when we eradicate His imbecile Followers.”
York’s countenance had assumed a familiar ferocity, his eyes beneath their bushy black brows seemed to shoot forth fiery darts.Neither Bentley nor his father said a word. It was exactly the response Bentley had expected, and he wasn’t sure why he had even asked the question. The momentary awkward silence between them ended when his mother took his arm and a dozen other knights and citizens moved in to offer congratulations.
When the knighting ceremony was over and the accolades were finished, Bentley lingered behind in the great hall. It was a day he had looked forward to for a long time. he took a deep breath and tried to enjoy the moment. It felt good to be a Noble Knight…almost perfect.
Almost.
Bentley’s heart pounded hard in his chest. He readied his sword in a midguard stance as he stood face to face with a fierce warrior whose markings Bentley had never seen before.The warrior yelled and initiated a diagonal cut that nearly blew Bentley’s sword from his grip. Preoccupied with his own survival, he was barely conscious of the clanging of other swords nearby.
He tightened his grip and countered with a rising cut, followed by a horizontal slice. His sword was met by the nearly immovable dark blade of the warrior, and he had to retreat to avoid the next deadly slice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of his fellow Noble Knights fall to the ground—and realized that he, York, and his other five companions could shortly succumb to the same fate. The five warriors they faced were much more than mere marauders; they had the look of seasoned war veterans. The Noble Knights had the advantage in numbers only, for the skill and power of these men far surpassed anything they had ever experienced.
Bentley considered his next move. How could they have made such a serious miscalculation and come to such a desperate situation? The months following his knighting ceremony had been filled with raids on the Followers, but each week seemed more intense than the previous.
This was already their third mission this week.
They had received news from an informant that a handful of Followers was meeting near a hut in the hollow at the northwest edge of Chessington.When they arrived, a strange old woman had yelled at them and cursed them from afar. York had ignored her and insisted they search the hut and the surrounding area. When they dismounted and neared the hut, these five massive warriors had attacked. Bentley had barely been able to draw his sword in time before one warrior launched a deadly slice toward him. Ever since, he had been fighting for his life.
Another powerful slice came terrifyingly close, and Bentley ducked.
He heard the swoosh of his enemy’s blade pass just above his head. Bentley initiated another rising cut, but missed and found himself slightly off balance. He knew that such an experienced man of war would capitalize on Bentley’s mistake—and he did. The next slice came from Bentley’s left, and he was only able to raise his sword for partial protection before the grisly blade blasted through his defense.
The concussion on his sword carried on to Bentley’s left spaulder and slammed into his helmet. Bentley careened to the right, scrambling in vain to keep his footing, then crashed to the ground. He knew what would happen next. In seconds, he would feel the steel of his enemy’s sword pierce his armor and then his chest. He lifted his sword for protection against the vertical slice, but the edge of the warrior’s blade burst through his resistance and into his breastplate. The impact of the blow on his body seemed to force the last of his strength from him. His end was near.
Bentley froze as the warrior lifted his sword high above him for a final downward thrust.His physical exhaustion did not diminish his fear of death in the least. But just as the tip of the warrior’s sword began its plummet, Bentley heard an unfamiliar yell and watched a wide arcing blade slice across his enemy’s torso from behind.
Screaming in pain and frustration, the warrior recoiled and turned on his unknown assailant. Bentley’s strength immediately returned, and he rolled away, quickly finding his feet. The warrior was now heavily engaged with a new adversary, one Bentley had never seen before. Bentley chanced a quick glance about him and realized that four other knights had joined their cause against these massive warriors of destruction. Another glance filled him with shock as he recognized their insignia. Followers!
The newcomers bore the unmistakable mark of the Stranger. This was the enemy Bentley and his comrades had set out that morning to engage. Yet these men were fighting to save their lives. Bentley brought his sword to bear along with his unexpected ally against the dark warrior, who was now wounded and searching for an avenue of retreat.Together, they forced the warrior into flight and joined the remaining knights in vanquishing their foes. When the tips of the swords slowly settled to grassy harbors of rest, only oneman had fallen. Bentley and anotherNoble Knight went to him and began removing his breastplate, for the wound was serious.The other men stood breathing heavily as the rush within their bodies subsided. Bentley looked up in gratitude toward the man who had wielded sword to help him.
“Thank you for your help. We’ve never faced such men before.”
The Follower nodded in the direction the enemy had fled. “We have. They are enemies of the King.”
“As are ye,” came York’s voice from behind. “Drop yer swords.”
Bentley looked up incredulously. “But these men—”
“—are our enemies,” York repeated. “They’ll be imprisoned.”
The four Followers looked stunned, then slowly stepped back and away once they determined the burly knight was not bluffing. Bentley jumped to his feet.
“They just saved our lives!”
“Then they be fools as well,” York spat. “Disarm them!”
The other knights looked at one another and then at Bentley. Bentley met their eyes, then knelt back down to his fallen comrade. The delay allowed the Followers to separate themselves, and they ran into the trees of the valley.
“After them!” York commanded.
“Sir!” one of the older knights exclaimed. “Nordan is down and needs immediate treatment.We either help him, or we chase the Followers and let him die—you choose!”
York’s eyes burned with fury, and in that moment Bentley fully discerned how deep York’s contention with the Followers lay. It was a moment that set his mind on a different course.
Knight
“Bentley of Chessington, do you swear to uphold the Articles of the Code, to defend Chessington and her citizens from enemies both outside and within her borders?” Lord Kifus’s voice echoed through the great hall of the palace.
“I do.” Young Bentley looked up at Kifus. Sand-colored hair formed loose curls around the young man’s neck and ears. His square, cleanshaven jaw revealed a small, faint scar—a badge to remind him never to become prideful about his considerable abilities as a swordsman. Bentley’s shoulders were broad, and he carried himself with the distinctive posture of a nobleman. In spite of his comely appearance and his social charm, however, Bentley did not hold himself in high regard, and thus there was very little to dislike about the young man.
“Do you swear to uphold the honor of the Noble Knights, placing the protection of your fellow brothers-in-arms above your own?”
“I do,” Bentley replied.
Nearly all two hundred Noble Knights were present to witness the knighting of one more squire into their brotherhood. It was a timehonored tradition that often followed the family lines of the wealthiest men in Chessington, and such was the case with Bentley. Behind the Noble Knights stood two to three hundred highly respected citizens of Chessington, for this was a significant event for both the Noble Knights and the citizenry.
“Do you take this oath without reservation, fully understanding the authority and responsibilities granted to you by the King—an oath that binds you to the order of the Noble Knights until death?”
Bentley hesitated, looking past Kifus toward the two men standing behind him. His father, Sir Barrington, and Sir York, the man who trained him at sword—his role model and his mentor. Could any two men be more different?
Bentley looked toward York and then to his father. A few seconds passed, and the delay became awkward. Barrington gazed at his son, smiled, and nodded. The room filled with tension, and Kifus’s gaze became stone hard.
Bentley looked back to the white-haired knightly leader, an icon of the perfect knight in many eyes. This was what Bentley had wanted his whole life, and yet something tugged upon his soul from another direction. It was those last few words that caused him to hesitate, for such an oath was a seal that would establish the course of his life forever.
He repeated the words in his mind:“Do you take this oath without reservation…an oath that binds you to the order of the Noble Knights until death?” What could be more honorable than service to the King?
“I do.” Bentley lowered his head in submission.
As if the doors of a flooded chamber had opened, the tension abated. Kifus lifted his brilliant silver sword to just above Bentley’s shoulder.
“Then I dub thee Sir Bentley, protector of Chessington and Noble Knight of the King!”
He touched the flat of the blade to each of Bentley’s shoulders, and a roar of shouts and acclamation filled the great hall. Bentley stood and Kifus offered his arm as a token of brotherhood.
“Well done, Sir Bentley. You are young but well deserving of the honor.”
“Thank you, Lord Kifus.”
Kifus turned to greet some of the approaching prestigious knights and citizens. Bentley’s father stepped forward and embraced his son.
“I am proud of you, my son.” Barrington smiled broadly through
his cropped salt-and-pepper beard.
“Thank you, Father. You and you alone have been my inspiration.”
York stepped forward and grasped Bentley’s arm.
“Sir Bentley…has a nice ring to it, aye, laddie?” He slapped Bentley hard on the shoulder with a meaty palm. Bentley bowed his head toward York.
“I am indebted to you for all the training you have given me, sir.”
York’s smile vanished as his mind seemed to return to a former preoccupation.
“Aye, and ye’ll be needing those skills in the days to come. The Followers continue to be a menace to our cause, and Kifus tells me our missions to eradicate them will increase.”
“Yes, sir,” Bentley replied, but something in his heart resisted the words. “What was it like before?”
York squinted and cocked his head to one side.
“Before the…ah…Followers?” Bentley added. It was an unusual question, and it conveyed much more than curiosity. Those few words carried a subtle message that raised the eyebrows of both York and his father. York looked back and forth between Barrington and Bentley.When he spoke, his words vibrated with passion. “It was a time when the authority of the Noble Knights was never questioned! That’s why we must fight well in coming days. The lingering effects of that dead Stranger will end, and we will restore the order of the Noble Knights to its rightful place when we eradicate His imbecile Followers.”
York’s countenance had assumed a familiar ferocity, his eyes beneath their bushy black brows seemed to shoot forth fiery darts.Neither Bentley nor his father said a word. It was exactly the response Bentley had expected, and he wasn’t sure why he had even asked the question. The momentary awkward silence between them ended when his mother took his arm and a dozen other knights and citizens moved in to offer congratulations.
When the knighting ceremony was over and the accolades were finished, Bentley lingered behind in the great hall. It was a day he had looked forward to for a long time. he took a deep breath and tried to enjoy the moment. It felt good to be a Noble Knight…almost perfect.
Almost.
Bentley’s heart pounded hard in his chest. He readied his sword in a midguard stance as he stood face to face with a fierce warrior whose markings Bentley had never seen before.The warrior yelled and initiated a diagonal cut that nearly blew Bentley’s sword from his grip. Preoccupied with his own survival, he was barely conscious of the clanging of other swords nearby.
He tightened his grip and countered with a rising cut, followed by a horizontal slice. His sword was met by the nearly immovable dark blade of the warrior, and he had to retreat to avoid the next deadly slice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of his fellow Noble Knights fall to the ground—and realized that he, York, and his other five companions could shortly succumb to the same fate. The five warriors they faced were much more than mere marauders; they had the look of seasoned war veterans. The Noble Knights had the advantage in numbers only, for the skill and power of these men far surpassed anything they had ever experienced.
Bentley considered his next move. How could they have made such a serious miscalculation and come to such a desperate situation? The months following his knighting ceremony had been filled with raids on the Followers, but each week seemed more intense than the previous.
This was already their third mission this week.
They had received news from an informant that a handful of Followers was meeting near a hut in the hollow at the northwest edge of Chessington.When they arrived, a strange old woman had yelled at them and cursed them from afar. York had ignored her and insisted they search the hut and the surrounding area. When they dismounted and neared the hut, these five massive warriors had attacked. Bentley had barely been able to draw his sword in time before one warrior launched a deadly slice toward him. Ever since, he had been fighting for his life.
Another powerful slice came terrifyingly close, and Bentley ducked.
He heard the swoosh of his enemy’s blade pass just above his head. Bentley initiated another rising cut, but missed and found himself slightly off balance. He knew that such an experienced man of war would capitalize on Bentley’s mistake—and he did. The next slice came from Bentley’s left, and he was only able to raise his sword for partial protection before the grisly blade blasted through his defense.
The concussion on his sword carried on to Bentley’s left spaulder and slammed into his helmet. Bentley careened to the right, scrambling in vain to keep his footing, then crashed to the ground. He knew what would happen next. In seconds, he would feel the steel of his enemy’s sword pierce his armor and then his chest. He lifted his sword for protection against the vertical slice, but the edge of the warrior’s blade burst through his resistance and into his breastplate. The impact of the blow on his body seemed to force the last of his strength from him. His end was near.
Bentley froze as the warrior lifted his sword high above him for a final downward thrust.His physical exhaustion did not diminish his fear of death in the least. But just as the tip of the warrior’s sword began its plummet, Bentley heard an unfamiliar yell and watched a wide arcing blade slice across his enemy’s torso from behind.
Screaming in pain and frustration, the warrior recoiled and turned on his unknown assailant. Bentley’s strength immediately returned, and he rolled away, quickly finding his feet. The warrior was now heavily engaged with a new adversary, one Bentley had never seen before. Bentley chanced a quick glance about him and realized that four other knights had joined their cause against these massive warriors of destruction. Another glance filled him with shock as he recognized their insignia. Followers!
The newcomers bore the unmistakable mark of the Stranger. This was the enemy Bentley and his comrades had set out that morning to engage. Yet these men were fighting to save their lives. Bentley brought his sword to bear along with his unexpected ally against the dark warrior, who was now wounded and searching for an avenue of retreat.Together, they forced the warrior into flight and joined the remaining knights in vanquishing their foes. When the tips of the swords slowly settled to grassy harbors of rest, only oneman had fallen. Bentley and anotherNoble Knight went to him and began removing his breastplate, for the wound was serious.The other men stood breathing heavily as the rush within their bodies subsided. Bentley looked up in gratitude toward the man who had wielded sword to help him.
“Thank you for your help. We’ve never faced such men before.”
The Follower nodded in the direction the enemy had fled. “We have. They are enemies of the King.”
“As are ye,” came York’s voice from behind. “Drop yer swords.”
Bentley looked up incredulously. “But these men—”
“—are our enemies,” York repeated. “They’ll be imprisoned.”
The four Followers looked stunned, then slowly stepped back and away once they determined the burly knight was not bluffing. Bentley jumped to his feet.
“They just saved our lives!”
“Then they be fools as well,” York spat. “Disarm them!”
The other knights looked at one another and then at Bentley. Bentley met their eyes, then knelt back down to his fallen comrade. The delay allowed the Followers to separate themselves, and they ran into the trees of the valley.
“After them!” York commanded.
“Sir!” one of the older knights exclaimed. “Nordan is down and needs immediate treatment.We either help him, or we chase the Followers and let him die—you choose!”
York’s eyes burned with fury, and in that moment Bentley fully discerned how deep York’s contention with the Followers lay. It was a moment that set his mind on a different course.
Married Strangers Dwan Abrams: Christian Fiction Blog
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today's Wild Card author is:
and the book:
Urban Christian (December 1, 2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Dwan Abrams is a full-time novelist, freelance editor, publisher and speaker. She's the best-selling author of Married Strangers, Divorcing the Devil, Only True Love Waits, The Scream Within, and Favor (a short story appearing in The Midnight Clear anthology). She's also the founder, publisher and editorial director of Nevaeh Publishing, a small press independent publishing house.Visit the author's website and blog.
Product Details:
List Price: $14.95
Paperback: 288 pages
Publisher: Urban Books (December 1, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1601629753
ISBN-13: 978-1601629753
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Rayna
Rayna’s eyes welled with tears as feelings of loneliness and disappointment overtook her emotions. All of the romance and passion she envisioned would occur during her honeymoon didn’t happen. She imagined that this would have been one of the happiest times of her life. Instead, she was miserable. She had already felt a sense of cognitive dissonance, better known as “buyer’s remorse,” after her new husband, Bryce, had promised to take her on an exotic vacation in Cancun. Yeah right! she thought. Here they were, two weeks before Christmas, in a log cabin at Forrest Hills Mountain Resort in Dahlonega, Georgia. It was a five day package that Bryce’s best friend, Fox, had given them for a wedding present. A friend whose nickname came as a result of not so savory sales tactics, Fox earned the nickname because, according to Bryce, he was slicker than a snake oil salesman. Rayna found it strange that Bryce would refer to his friend in such a derogatory manner. It vexed her spirit, and she immediately remembered Proverbs 27:19: A mirror reflects a man's face, but what he is really like is shown by the kind of friends he chooses.
Now Rayna faced a deeper problem, the dislike of her honeymoon location. Besides the fact that Rayna was not the outdoorsy type, hiking and horseback riding never appealed to her. She and Bryce had discussed at length where they would spend their honeymoon… on the beach. Rayna’s fondest memories are of her vacationing in the Bahamas, Hawaii, and different beaches in Florida. There was something about the tranquil waters that made her feel at peace; almost as if she was communing with God.
Bryce had promised her they’d go to Mexico. At the last minute, he told her that he was unable to get the time off from work. He worked as a field reporter, and although he could have gotten a few days off, it wouldn’t have been long enough. She was disappointed. Her heart was set on an exotic locale, not somewhere with frost on the trees and snow on the ground. She wondered whether she was catching a glimpse of what her life with Bryce would be like. Broken promises. Even with advance notice, he still wasn’t able to come through for their honeymoon. The only person she blamed was herself for not getting to know her husband better before marrying him. As far as Rayna was concerned, a year of knowing Bryce hadn’t been nearly enough time. Trying to deal with her regret seemed overwhelming at times.
Rayna considered herself to be spiritually intuitive. But this time, she ignored the signs. A couple of weeks before getting married, Rayna had a disturbing dream about her wedding day. In the dream, her wedding day was a fiasco. She couldn’t remember all of the details, but one thing was clear—her feelings throughout the dream were unpleasant. At one point she said, “I’m marrying the wrong man.” Having awoken with beads of sweat on her forehead, Rayna dismissed the dream as a case of wedding jitters.
Even though the log cabin was nice—hot tub, double showers, and fireplace—the problem was Bryce.
“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson,” Bryce said as he kissed Rayna on the cheek.
“Morning.” She stretched her arms over her head.
The way Bryce said, “Mrs. Henderson,” sent shivers up her spine. To her, he sounded so macho at times. She found that whole “I’m Tarzan, you Jane” thing sexy.
“You hungry?” he asked.
She looked at the clock sitting on the wooden nightstand next to the canopy bed. The LED display read 9:00 a.m. in red digits.
“We need to hurry up before they stop serving breakfast,” she said.
Rayna wanted to escape out of bed and get dressed before Bryce touched her, again. His passionate desires seemed to be insatiable. Once, she asked him whether he had an implant or took drugs, because even after making love, Bryce’s physical disposition remained the same. Of course, he denied it. Most women would love to have a man who could last for hours. For Rayna, it didn’t take all that. Not if he knew what he’s doing. Unfortunately, Bryce wouldn’t know how to satisfy her if she were an air traffic controller directing him from the lighthouse. She remembered hearing that sex comprised only two percent of a relationship, if it’s good. But when it’s not-so-good, it’s about ninety-eight percent, she thought. Having an ungratifying sex life made it difficult for her to appreciate the good things about Bryce. Like the way he’d rub her feet whenever they sat next to each other on the couch, or the way he’d give her an all over body massage.
“Let’s take communion first,” Bryce suggested, revealing a devilish grin.
Communion was Bryce’s way of asking for physical intimacy, and she thought it was sweet. He had this good guy, bad boy routine down to a science. Rayna looked over at him and immediately became turned on. Her husband was hot. Brad Pitt and George Clooney had nothing on Bryce. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his smooth, hairless chest was toned and muscular. She noticed that his abs workout was working, because the lining of a six-pack was visible. She thought he was sexy. Too bad he can’t deliver.
“Not right now,” she grumbled.
It amazed Rayna how her husband could have so much going on—good looks, a body like a Greek Adonis, sex appeal, a smile that could light up a room, yet he didn’t know how to straighten her hair and curl her toes, so to speak. It’s not like she hadn’t expressed her dissatisfaction to Bryce. He knew full well that she was frustrated; yet he wouldn’t do anything to change it. Every time she wanted to try something new or different, he called her sadistic. Her feelings were crushed. More than anything, she wanted to please him, and in the process, get pleased. His inflexibility made Rayna feel less desirable and unappreciated.
She got out of the king-sized bed, walked across the hardwood floor, and went into the double showers. Thankfully, the water running down her face camouflaged the tears streaming down her cheeks. Rayna felt as if she had made a terrible mistake by marrying Bryce. After they consummated their marriage a couple of nights ago, she went into the bathroom and cried. How could two people be so physically incompatible? she thought. She had never heard of such a thing, especially not with married couples. She wondered what she had done to deserve such an unfulfilling union. Silently, she prayed.
Lord, forgive me for my sins. Please help me deal with this marriage. Whatever sin is blocking me from being a good wife, I ask that you remove it. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.
As she exited the shower and wrapped her body in a towel, Bryce entered the bathroom. He embraced Rayna, and she melted. Her desire to be close to him was overwhelming; then the thought of being disappointed crept in and immediately turned her off. Not because she didn’t love him, because she did. It was more because of his indifferent attitude. When they made love, she sensed that his thoughts were elsewhere. He wouldn’t look at her, and that bothered her. She wondered whether it was because he was white, and she was black. Then she quickly dismissed that notion because Bryce didn’t seem to have a racist bone in his body. His expectation of going all the way at the slightest hint of affection made her hesitant to hug or kiss him. She couldn’t even rub her hand along her leg without him getting turned on.
Freeing herself from his toned arms, she looked at his disappointed face and said, “I saved you some hot water. I’m going to get dressed.”
She went back into the bedroom. Since it was cold outside, she slipped into a cashmere sweater, jeans and boots. Her hair was styled in a short, curled “do” like the actress Halle Berry.
Several minutes later, Bryce came from out of the shower. “You look nice,” Bryce complimented as he dried off, and changed into a gray mock neck sweater, jeans and Timberlands.
“Thanks. So do you.”
They put on their coats and gloves and left the cabin. Rayna noticed there was frost on the surrounding trees. They walked to the couples-only “Secret Garden” dining room, which happened to be a few feet away.
The hostess, dressed in a sweater and jeans, said, “Are you on your honeymoon?”
“Yes,” Bryce replied, smiling. “How could you tell?”
Rayna felt like saying, “Because we’re in the couples-only dining room,” but she refrained. In Bryce’s defense, they could’ve been dating and vacationing together, she reasoned.
“You have that glow about you,” the hostess replied.
Bryce looked at Rayna lovingly, and grabbed her gloved hand.
“It’s a buffet,” the hostess explained, smiling. “Seat yourself wherever you like.”
Thank goodness, Rayna thought. Every time they went out to eat, Bryce always asked the waiter or waitress, “What do you recommend?” It used to bother Rayna, so she asked him why he did that. He told her that it eliminated the guesswork. “Who better to tell you about the food than the people who work at the restaurant?” Bryce replied. She understood, but never adopted that philosophy. She enjoyed scanning the selections. When she would narrow her choices down to two entrées, then she would ask the waiter or waitress for their opinion. Her indecisiveness tended to bother Bryce, but she didn’t care.
They sat at a table surrounded by large, panoramic windows. They took off their coats and gloves and placed them on an empty chair.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the hostess asked.
“Two hot teas with sugar and lemon,” Bryce replied.
“And an orange juice,” Rayna added.
After the hostess took their drink orders, they got up and each fixed themselves a plate. The food looked scrumptious and fresh. Rayna had the cheese grits, scrambled eggs and bacon. Bryce filled his plate with French toast and sausage links.
They went back to their table, and Bryce led them in prayer.
“Father, thank you for this food and fellowship. I pray that this meal is nourishing to our minds and bodies. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.
She mixed her eggs with the grits and crumpled bacon on top. Then she stared out the window. Trees for as far as the eyes could see… acres and acres of secluded woodlands. Her thoughts drifted to the first time she and Bryce met.
They were standing in line at the cafe in the Barnes & Noble off Cobb Parkway in Atlanta. After striking up a general conversation, Bryce paid for her latte. He seemed intelligent, not to mention handsome, with that sandy blond hair and green eyes. So when he asked for her phone number, she gave it to him.
Rayna went home immediately afterward. Within twenty minutes, her phone rang. It was Bryce, asking her to go out with him.
“When can I see you, again?” Bryce asked.
“How about tomorrow night?” she responded in a flirtatious tone.
“Great.” He sounded excited. “Where would you like to go?”
“Pizza Hut,” she laughed.
“Pizza Hut?” She could tell by the influx in his voice that he had expected her to name some fancy restaurant.
“Yes.”
Besides the fact that Pizza Hut was her favorite pizza establishment, she didn’t want Bryce to feel as though she were trying to take advantage of him. When they met, he was dressed in a suit. Not a cheap suit either. Rayna checked his shoes and Bryce wore black Kenneth Cole. He seemed to be doing pretty well. Even still, Rayna had wanted to get to know him personally. At the time, she was not impressed by the fact that by all appearances, he could have taken her to an expensive restaurant.
The following day, he picked Rayna up at her apartment in a rental car and took her to Pizza Hut. While at the restaurant, he explained to her that he actually lived in Chicago and was in Atlanta on business. He worked as a field reporter and was chronicling a news story. He also wrote a newspaper column. His profession seemed exciting to Rayna, because she had written numerous poems and short stories. One day, she planned to write a full-length book. Speaking with a real life reporter/writer fascinated her. As he told Rayna about his travels and how he became a writer, she hung on his every word.
“I have always been fascinated by the written word,” Bryce explained. “You know, it’s funny how I became a columnist,” he chuckled. “A friend of mine used to write a column for Chicago Tribune. She got a promotion and recommended me for her old job.”
“Wow! That was a major blessing.” Rayna smiled.
“I know,” he laughed. “Especially since I had just graduated from college.”
Rayna was not surprised to hear about Bryce’s accomplishments. He seemed so eloquent, well- spoken, cultured, and poised. When they arrived at the restaurant, they talked incessantly. She felt as though she were in a therapy session, because he was so easy to talk to.
“Where are you from?” Bryce asked, looking at her.
“I grew up in Orlando, but my parents and I moved to Georgia about…” she rolled her eyes upward, “ten years ago.” She took a bite of pepperoni pizza.
“Tell me about your family.”
She held up her index finger while she chewed the pizza. After she swallowed, she said, “I’m an only child. My mom’s a pharmacist, and my dad’s a neurologist. What about your family?”
“I have two older brothers and two younger sisters. I’m the middle child. I spent a great deal of my childhood being raised by my grandmother.”
“What happened to your parents?”
He sipped a glass of soda, or “pop” as he called it. “My dad died of a heart-attack when I was five, and I don’t have a good relationship with my mother.”
Curious. Rayna was taken aback. What kind of guy doesn’t get along with his mother? she wondered.
“My brothers and sisters have the same father, and I have my own father,” he explained. “As you can imagine, I was the black sheep.”
“You’re the middle child, yet you have a different dad?” she said more of a statement than a question, trying to make sure she understood him correctly.
“Yes. My mom was married, but she had an affair. I’m the result.” He stared at a scratch in the wooden table before taking a sip of his sparkly drink.
Rayna cleared her throat, not really knowing what to say. His candor surprised her.
He looked at her and sucked in his cheeks as if he were sucking a lemon. “My mom’s marriage suffered because of it, but they stayed together and had my twin sisters.”
“Then why did you have to stay with your grandmother?” She tilted her head to the side.
He looked her in the eye and said seriously, “Because my stepdad didn’t treat me the same as the other kids. He was harder on me. My mom figured that with me out of the house, the family could be put back together.”
“That’s terrible.” She furrowed her brow.
She felt sorry for him. Rayna hadn’t expected to learn such personal information about him on their first date. In a strange way, seeing him in such a vulnerable state attracted her to Bryce. She had finally met a man who was in touch with his feelings and knew how to convey them. Something in his almond shaped eyes expressed sadness. She could tell that his hurt ran deep. He was so nice that she wanted to help him.
Bryce squeezed Rayna’s hand, which was resting on top of the table, and said, “What were you thinking about?”
Rayna had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t even realized that the hostess had placed their drinks on the table.
“How do you know I was thinking?” she answered, smiling. “I could’ve been admiring the scenery.”
“You might’ve started out doing that, but I can tell by the way your eyes shifted downward and to the right that you were remembering something.”
He’s so analytical, she thought. He pays attention to everything. That’s what she gets for hooking up with a brain-iac.
“I was thinking about us,” she admitted. “I can’t believe that after six months of being engaged, we’re finally married.”
Rayna’s decision to marry Bryce was an easy one. He proposed to her three months after they met. They had been talking on the phone every day, several times per day. Maintaining a long distance relationship wasn’t easy. She missed him terribly and wanted companionship. She was twenty years old and a sophomore at Mercer University. Bryce was three years her senior. They were deeply in love.
“Rayna,” he said, interrupting her thoughts once again. “I love you so much,” he grinned sheepishly, licking his pink lips.
“I love you, too.” She gave a faint smile.
“You don’t understand. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anybody, including my own mother. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you, Rayna,” Bryce declared.
Somehow, hearing Bryce say he loved her more than his mother disturbed her, because although she loved him, she didn’t think it could be compared to the love she has for her parents. Never had she met anyone who could make her remotely think that she loved them more than either one of her parents. She couldn’t even imagine. Then again, she thought, Bryce’s relationship with his mother was strained. So was it really far-fetched for him to love someone more than her?
Even though she believed him wholeheartedly, Rayna wasn’t sure how to respond to his statement. The first time Bryce ever told Rayna that he loved her was one week after they met. It caught her completely off guard. She found it peculiar, because she thought it was too soon for them to exchange those three little words that carry a whole lot of weight. She didn’t say it back to him, because she didn’t take saying, “I love you” lightly.
Marrying Bryce seemed to make logical sense to Rayna. He was an avid reader, had an incredible vocabulary, and was well-versed in many different things. And she couldn’t deny the obvious. Bryce was fine and saved. And in Rayna’s opinion, that was definitely a plus. Not to mention that he’s a visionary and ambitious. One of the things Rayna admired about him was the fact that he knew a little about a wide array of subjects. He was able to discuss anything with anyone ranging from jazz music to the Greek classics to the Bible. And her parents loved him. Before deciding to commit, Rayna had a conversation with her Aunt Sylvia, which persuaded Rayna to marry Bryce.
Aunt Sylvia and Rayna had a close-knit relationship. She was Rayna’s mother’s younger sister, in her forties, and has never been married. Based on what she had told her aunt, like the way Bryce would call throughout the day, or send flowers, or take Rayna to nice restaurants, Sylvia was convinced that Bryce loved Rayna. What tilted the scale in Bryce’s favor was when Aunt Sylvia said, “Girl, what are you dragging your feet for? Do you know how hard it is to find a man who wants to get married?”
Rayna was glad when the hostess returned and asked, “How’s the food?”
“Fine,” she replied. That way, she didn’t have to acknowledge Bryce’s declaration.
He bit into his French toast. “Delicious.”
Rayna picked up her cloth napkin and wiped the powdered sugar off Bryce’s full lips. His lips don’t look like the average white boy. Not Mick Jagger, but luscious and sexy. He smiled a dimpled smile. She could tell he appreciated the gesture. They finished their breakfast and walked back to their cabin, glove in glove. As they breathed the cold, crisp air, smoke formed every time they exhaled.
Back in the cabin, Bryce started a fire in the gas log fireplace. They took off their shoes, wrapped themselves in a colorful quilt, and cuddled in front of the blazing fire. It was quite romantic. Rayna closed her eyes, listened to the crackling noises being emitted from the fireplace, and imagined that Bryce would ravish her body and leave her feeling satisfied. Fantasizing and praying helped her get through the remaining three days of her honeymoon. Thankfully, she had her fantasies.
Rayna’s eyes welled with tears as feelings of loneliness and disappointment overtook her emotions. All of the romance and passion she envisioned would occur during her honeymoon didn’t happen. She imagined that this would have been one of the happiest times of her life. Instead, she was miserable. She had already felt a sense of cognitive dissonance, better known as “buyer’s remorse,” after her new husband, Bryce, had promised to take her on an exotic vacation in Cancun. Yeah right! she thought. Here they were, two weeks before Christmas, in a log cabin at Forrest Hills Mountain Resort in Dahlonega, Georgia. It was a five day package that Bryce’s best friend, Fox, had given them for a wedding present. A friend whose nickname came as a result of not so savory sales tactics, Fox earned the nickname because, according to Bryce, he was slicker than a snake oil salesman. Rayna found it strange that Bryce would refer to his friend in such a derogatory manner. It vexed her spirit, and she immediately remembered Proverbs 27:19: A mirror reflects a man's face, but what he is really like is shown by the kind of friends he chooses.
Now Rayna faced a deeper problem, the dislike of her honeymoon location. Besides the fact that Rayna was not the outdoorsy type, hiking and horseback riding never appealed to her. She and Bryce had discussed at length where they would spend their honeymoon… on the beach. Rayna’s fondest memories are of her vacationing in the Bahamas, Hawaii, and different beaches in Florida. There was something about the tranquil waters that made her feel at peace; almost as if she was communing with God.
Bryce had promised her they’d go to Mexico. At the last minute, he told her that he was unable to get the time off from work. He worked as a field reporter, and although he could have gotten a few days off, it wouldn’t have been long enough. She was disappointed. Her heart was set on an exotic locale, not somewhere with frost on the trees and snow on the ground. She wondered whether she was catching a glimpse of what her life with Bryce would be like. Broken promises. Even with advance notice, he still wasn’t able to come through for their honeymoon. The only person she blamed was herself for not getting to know her husband better before marrying him. As far as Rayna was concerned, a year of knowing Bryce hadn’t been nearly enough time. Trying to deal with her regret seemed overwhelming at times.
Rayna considered herself to be spiritually intuitive. But this time, she ignored the signs. A couple of weeks before getting married, Rayna had a disturbing dream about her wedding day. In the dream, her wedding day was a fiasco. She couldn’t remember all of the details, but one thing was clear—her feelings throughout the dream were unpleasant. At one point she said, “I’m marrying the wrong man.” Having awoken with beads of sweat on her forehead, Rayna dismissed the dream as a case of wedding jitters.
Even though the log cabin was nice—hot tub, double showers, and fireplace—the problem was Bryce.
“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson,” Bryce said as he kissed Rayna on the cheek.
“Morning.” She stretched her arms over her head.
The way Bryce said, “Mrs. Henderson,” sent shivers up her spine. To her, he sounded so macho at times. She found that whole “I’m Tarzan, you Jane” thing sexy.
“You hungry?” he asked.
She looked at the clock sitting on the wooden nightstand next to the canopy bed. The LED display read 9:00 a.m. in red digits.
“We need to hurry up before they stop serving breakfast,” she said.
Rayna wanted to escape out of bed and get dressed before Bryce touched her, again. His passionate desires seemed to be insatiable. Once, she asked him whether he had an implant or took drugs, because even after making love, Bryce’s physical disposition remained the same. Of course, he denied it. Most women would love to have a man who could last for hours. For Rayna, it didn’t take all that. Not if he knew what he’s doing. Unfortunately, Bryce wouldn’t know how to satisfy her if she were an air traffic controller directing him from the lighthouse. She remembered hearing that sex comprised only two percent of a relationship, if it’s good. But when it’s not-so-good, it’s about ninety-eight percent, she thought. Having an ungratifying sex life made it difficult for her to appreciate the good things about Bryce. Like the way he’d rub her feet whenever they sat next to each other on the couch, or the way he’d give her an all over body massage.
“Let’s take communion first,” Bryce suggested, revealing a devilish grin.
Communion was Bryce’s way of asking for physical intimacy, and she thought it was sweet. He had this good guy, bad boy routine down to a science. Rayna looked over at him and immediately became turned on. Her husband was hot. Brad Pitt and George Clooney had nothing on Bryce. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his smooth, hairless chest was toned and muscular. She noticed that his abs workout was working, because the lining of a six-pack was visible. She thought he was sexy. Too bad he can’t deliver.
“Not right now,” she grumbled.
It amazed Rayna how her husband could have so much going on—good looks, a body like a Greek Adonis, sex appeal, a smile that could light up a room, yet he didn’t know how to straighten her hair and curl her toes, so to speak. It’s not like she hadn’t expressed her dissatisfaction to Bryce. He knew full well that she was frustrated; yet he wouldn’t do anything to change it. Every time she wanted to try something new or different, he called her sadistic. Her feelings were crushed. More than anything, she wanted to please him, and in the process, get pleased. His inflexibility made Rayna feel less desirable and unappreciated.
She got out of the king-sized bed, walked across the hardwood floor, and went into the double showers. Thankfully, the water running down her face camouflaged the tears streaming down her cheeks. Rayna felt as if she had made a terrible mistake by marrying Bryce. After they consummated their marriage a couple of nights ago, she went into the bathroom and cried. How could two people be so physically incompatible? she thought. She had never heard of such a thing, especially not with married couples. She wondered what she had done to deserve such an unfulfilling union. Silently, she prayed.
Lord, forgive me for my sins. Please help me deal with this marriage. Whatever sin is blocking me from being a good wife, I ask that you remove it. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.
As she exited the shower and wrapped her body in a towel, Bryce entered the bathroom. He embraced Rayna, and she melted. Her desire to be close to him was overwhelming; then the thought of being disappointed crept in and immediately turned her off. Not because she didn’t love him, because she did. It was more because of his indifferent attitude. When they made love, she sensed that his thoughts were elsewhere. He wouldn’t look at her, and that bothered her. She wondered whether it was because he was white, and she was black. Then she quickly dismissed that notion because Bryce didn’t seem to have a racist bone in his body. His expectation of going all the way at the slightest hint of affection made her hesitant to hug or kiss him. She couldn’t even rub her hand along her leg without him getting turned on.
Freeing herself from his toned arms, she looked at his disappointed face and said, “I saved you some hot water. I’m going to get dressed.”
She went back into the bedroom. Since it was cold outside, she slipped into a cashmere sweater, jeans and boots. Her hair was styled in a short, curled “do” like the actress Halle Berry.
Several minutes later, Bryce came from out of the shower. “You look nice,” Bryce complimented as he dried off, and changed into a gray mock neck sweater, jeans and Timberlands.
“Thanks. So do you.”
They put on their coats and gloves and left the cabin. Rayna noticed there was frost on the surrounding trees. They walked to the couples-only “Secret Garden” dining room, which happened to be a few feet away.
The hostess, dressed in a sweater and jeans, said, “Are you on your honeymoon?”
“Yes,” Bryce replied, smiling. “How could you tell?”
Rayna felt like saying, “Because we’re in the couples-only dining room,” but she refrained. In Bryce’s defense, they could’ve been dating and vacationing together, she reasoned.
“You have that glow about you,” the hostess replied.
Bryce looked at Rayna lovingly, and grabbed her gloved hand.
“It’s a buffet,” the hostess explained, smiling. “Seat yourself wherever you like.”
Thank goodness, Rayna thought. Every time they went out to eat, Bryce always asked the waiter or waitress, “What do you recommend?” It used to bother Rayna, so she asked him why he did that. He told her that it eliminated the guesswork. “Who better to tell you about the food than the people who work at the restaurant?” Bryce replied. She understood, but never adopted that philosophy. She enjoyed scanning the selections. When she would narrow her choices down to two entrées, then she would ask the waiter or waitress for their opinion. Her indecisiveness tended to bother Bryce, but she didn’t care.
They sat at a table surrounded by large, panoramic windows. They took off their coats and gloves and placed them on an empty chair.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the hostess asked.
“Two hot teas with sugar and lemon,” Bryce replied.
“And an orange juice,” Rayna added.
After the hostess took their drink orders, they got up and each fixed themselves a plate. The food looked scrumptious and fresh. Rayna had the cheese grits, scrambled eggs and bacon. Bryce filled his plate with French toast and sausage links.
They went back to their table, and Bryce led them in prayer.
“Father, thank you for this food and fellowship. I pray that this meal is nourishing to our minds and bodies. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.
She mixed her eggs with the grits and crumpled bacon on top. Then she stared out the window. Trees for as far as the eyes could see… acres and acres of secluded woodlands. Her thoughts drifted to the first time she and Bryce met.
They were standing in line at the cafe in the Barnes & Noble off Cobb Parkway in Atlanta. After striking up a general conversation, Bryce paid for her latte. He seemed intelligent, not to mention handsome, with that sandy blond hair and green eyes. So when he asked for her phone number, she gave it to him.
Rayna went home immediately afterward. Within twenty minutes, her phone rang. It was Bryce, asking her to go out with him.
“When can I see you, again?” Bryce asked.
“How about tomorrow night?” she responded in a flirtatious tone.
“Great.” He sounded excited. “Where would you like to go?”
“Pizza Hut,” she laughed.
“Pizza Hut?” She could tell by the influx in his voice that he had expected her to name some fancy restaurant.
“Yes.”
Besides the fact that Pizza Hut was her favorite pizza establishment, she didn’t want Bryce to feel as though she were trying to take advantage of him. When they met, he was dressed in a suit. Not a cheap suit either. Rayna checked his shoes and Bryce wore black Kenneth Cole. He seemed to be doing pretty well. Even still, Rayna had wanted to get to know him personally. At the time, she was not impressed by the fact that by all appearances, he could have taken her to an expensive restaurant.
The following day, he picked Rayna up at her apartment in a rental car and took her to Pizza Hut. While at the restaurant, he explained to her that he actually lived in Chicago and was in Atlanta on business. He worked as a field reporter and was chronicling a news story. He also wrote a newspaper column. His profession seemed exciting to Rayna, because she had written numerous poems and short stories. One day, she planned to write a full-length book. Speaking with a real life reporter/writer fascinated her. As he told Rayna about his travels and how he became a writer, she hung on his every word.
“I have always been fascinated by the written word,” Bryce explained. “You know, it’s funny how I became a columnist,” he chuckled. “A friend of mine used to write a column for Chicago Tribune. She got a promotion and recommended me for her old job.”
“Wow! That was a major blessing.” Rayna smiled.
“I know,” he laughed. “Especially since I had just graduated from college.”
Rayna was not surprised to hear about Bryce’s accomplishments. He seemed so eloquent, well- spoken, cultured, and poised. When they arrived at the restaurant, they talked incessantly. She felt as though she were in a therapy session, because he was so easy to talk to.
“Where are you from?” Bryce asked, looking at her.
“I grew up in Orlando, but my parents and I moved to Georgia about…” she rolled her eyes upward, “ten years ago.” She took a bite of pepperoni pizza.
“Tell me about your family.”
She held up her index finger while she chewed the pizza. After she swallowed, she said, “I’m an only child. My mom’s a pharmacist, and my dad’s a neurologist. What about your family?”
“I have two older brothers and two younger sisters. I’m the middle child. I spent a great deal of my childhood being raised by my grandmother.”
“What happened to your parents?”
He sipped a glass of soda, or “pop” as he called it. “My dad died of a heart-attack when I was five, and I don’t have a good relationship with my mother.”
Curious. Rayna was taken aback. What kind of guy doesn’t get along with his mother? she wondered.
“My brothers and sisters have the same father, and I have my own father,” he explained. “As you can imagine, I was the black sheep.”
“You’re the middle child, yet you have a different dad?” she said more of a statement than a question, trying to make sure she understood him correctly.
“Yes. My mom was married, but she had an affair. I’m the result.” He stared at a scratch in the wooden table before taking a sip of his sparkly drink.
Rayna cleared her throat, not really knowing what to say. His candor surprised her.
He looked at her and sucked in his cheeks as if he were sucking a lemon. “My mom’s marriage suffered because of it, but they stayed together and had my twin sisters.”
“Then why did you have to stay with your grandmother?” She tilted her head to the side.
He looked her in the eye and said seriously, “Because my stepdad didn’t treat me the same as the other kids. He was harder on me. My mom figured that with me out of the house, the family could be put back together.”
“That’s terrible.” She furrowed her brow.
She felt sorry for him. Rayna hadn’t expected to learn such personal information about him on their first date. In a strange way, seeing him in such a vulnerable state attracted her to Bryce. She had finally met a man who was in touch with his feelings and knew how to convey them. Something in his almond shaped eyes expressed sadness. She could tell that his hurt ran deep. He was so nice that she wanted to help him.
Bryce squeezed Rayna’s hand, which was resting on top of the table, and said, “What were you thinking about?”
Rayna had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t even realized that the hostess had placed their drinks on the table.
“How do you know I was thinking?” she answered, smiling. “I could’ve been admiring the scenery.”
“You might’ve started out doing that, but I can tell by the way your eyes shifted downward and to the right that you were remembering something.”
He’s so analytical, she thought. He pays attention to everything. That’s what she gets for hooking up with a brain-iac.
“I was thinking about us,” she admitted. “I can’t believe that after six months of being engaged, we’re finally married.”
Rayna’s decision to marry Bryce was an easy one. He proposed to her three months after they met. They had been talking on the phone every day, several times per day. Maintaining a long distance relationship wasn’t easy. She missed him terribly and wanted companionship. She was twenty years old and a sophomore at Mercer University. Bryce was three years her senior. They were deeply in love.
“Rayna,” he said, interrupting her thoughts once again. “I love you so much,” he grinned sheepishly, licking his pink lips.
“I love you, too.” She gave a faint smile.
“You don’t understand. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anybody, including my own mother. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you, Rayna,” Bryce declared.
Somehow, hearing Bryce say he loved her more than his mother disturbed her, because although she loved him, she didn’t think it could be compared to the love she has for her parents. Never had she met anyone who could make her remotely think that she loved them more than either one of her parents. She couldn’t even imagine. Then again, she thought, Bryce’s relationship with his mother was strained. So was it really far-fetched for him to love someone more than her?
Even though she believed him wholeheartedly, Rayna wasn’t sure how to respond to his statement. The first time Bryce ever told Rayna that he loved her was one week after they met. It caught her completely off guard. She found it peculiar, because she thought it was too soon for them to exchange those three little words that carry a whole lot of weight. She didn’t say it back to him, because she didn’t take saying, “I love you” lightly.
Marrying Bryce seemed to make logical sense to Rayna. He was an avid reader, had an incredible vocabulary, and was well-versed in many different things. And she couldn’t deny the obvious. Bryce was fine and saved. And in Rayna’s opinion, that was definitely a plus. Not to mention that he’s a visionary and ambitious. One of the things Rayna admired about him was the fact that he knew a little about a wide array of subjects. He was able to discuss anything with anyone ranging from jazz music to the Greek classics to the Bible. And her parents loved him. Before deciding to commit, Rayna had a conversation with her Aunt Sylvia, which persuaded Rayna to marry Bryce.
Aunt Sylvia and Rayna had a close-knit relationship. She was Rayna’s mother’s younger sister, in her forties, and has never been married. Based on what she had told her aunt, like the way Bryce would call throughout the day, or send flowers, or take Rayna to nice restaurants, Sylvia was convinced that Bryce loved Rayna. What tilted the scale in Bryce’s favor was when Aunt Sylvia said, “Girl, what are you dragging your feet for? Do you know how hard it is to find a man who wants to get married?”
Rayna was glad when the hostess returned and asked, “How’s the food?”
“Fine,” she replied. That way, she didn’t have to acknowledge Bryce’s declaration.
He bit into his French toast. “Delicious.”
Rayna picked up her cloth napkin and wiped the powdered sugar off Bryce’s full lips. His lips don’t look like the average white boy. Not Mick Jagger, but luscious and sexy. He smiled a dimpled smile. She could tell he appreciated the gesture. They finished their breakfast and walked back to their cabin, glove in glove. As they breathed the cold, crisp air, smoke formed every time they exhaled.
Back in the cabin, Bryce started a fire in the gas log fireplace. They took off their shoes, wrapped themselves in a colorful quilt, and cuddled in front of the blazing fire. It was quite romantic. Rayna closed her eyes, listened to the crackling noises being emitted from the fireplace, and imagined that Bryce would ravish her body and leave her feeling satisfied. Fantasizing and praying helped her get through the remaining three days of her honeymoon. Thankfully, she had her fantasies.
High or No Hopes for Diverse Christian Fiction
This week Publisher's Weekly published a promising article for Christian Fiction Publishing Houses, "High Hopes for New Fiction: Abingdon Press." As we posted last year about Abingdon Press's launch and call to submissions this article speaks on its recent developments and the line launching this summer. The article further shares good news from top CBA houses Zondervan, Thomas Nelson and Bethany House about their savvy business module, shift in fiction title focus, and the diversification of their lines.The latter discussion--the diversification of the line caught my interest the most. What does these publishing houses mean by diversifying their fiction lines? From what I read that distinction is reserved to genre(amish, thriller, suspence,) but not multicultural diversity.
I don't think this year Christian Fiction Blog has discussed much about my challenge with the lack of multicultural diversity in contemporary Christian entertainment. Don't get me wrong I am also challenged with the lack of contemporary Christian entertainment in traditional radio and even most of our Christian television programming. However, there is something that gnaws at me regarding this cultural divide.
Moreover, I fear this schism is the reason why I don't see a great representation of diversity at the upcoming Christian Book Expo or why some AA CBA books are not just off the shelf but unavailable to order, entire series gone. And that troubles me more...
Tonight I participated in two discussions about the rapido influx of Latino consumers, one particularly about Christian Latino consumers. Yet, when I read through these publishing houses catalogues, requests to review their books on this site, I find very little titles that meet the needs of this readership.
So I wonder how High of a Hope does Christian Fiction have for those readers? Castilian literature still?
What We've Been Up To
Wear Red & Read Dessert
Urban Christian Fiction Author Dwan Abrams watches, as B. David(Destiny Praise) performs a song from his new CD. Releases April 2009
Some attendees at the Wear Red & Read Dessert
Gift Bags for Wear Red & Read Dessert
Author Dwan Abrams share the making of her novel, Divorcing the Devil and why she chose to include women's heart disease as an issue in the book.
Book Jewelry giveaways that compliment Author Dwan Abrams Married Strangers
Author and poet Hank Stewart meets his fans.
Barnes & Noble Black History Month Author Fair
Author gal pal, Roishina Henderson signs her debut novel, Make me Whole.
Author Shana Burton poses with two bookclub fans.
Author T.S. Jones poses with her new novel, Everything, but The Ring.
A special young lady makes her first book purchase.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Who's Reading U: Four Reasons it Takes a Village to Raise a Book
Four Reasons it Takes a Village to Raise a Book
There was a discussion on The Writer's View about Marketing. I try not to chime in too much about those things, because lit pr and marketing is a passion and my business, so I don't want to drop too much bmp science on the group, as well as I don't want to get into a debate about marketing vs ministry. In my opinion they have two different names for a reason. They aren't the same, and thus the purpose is different. However, I do want to talk about a marketing tool we use on some lit clients that could be a ministerial too. It is called The Reader's Advisory Panel (RAP for short.) Can I share?
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Where do you start when putting together your marketing plan?
Our weekend Chatterbox ? comes from a discussion on The WritersView is: Where do you start when putting together your marketing plan?You need to have a vision. That vision needs to be full and rounded out whereby you know without pausing:
-what do you write about?
- what is your vision for your writing? where do you want this to go? what has God shared with you about this vision?
-what is God saying through you repeatedly?
-what does the people look like while experiencing your story?
-what are they saying after the experience?
-where are they? where do you vision meeting these people?
It's a loaded question that breaks off into different shoots and branches but each artist must have a vision. Then you can set parameters on what you will and won't do or pay. And where do you need to meet these people who desperately want to hear this message God keeps giving you.
Simply put you have to have a vision. Without a vision your readership perishes.
What do you think is the best place to start?
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Phenomenal Women Book Club Annual Book Drive
Hi everyone,
Phenomenal Women Book Club Organization is collecting books for its second annual book drive to benefit "The Metro". Please take a look at the attached flyer and post it in a public area, add it to your announcements or newsletters and/or email it to someone who may be interested in donating books. There's no minimum or maximum, all books will be accepted and appreciated. Phenomenal Women Book Club Organization is attempting to help entertain, inform, and educate the women and children at the Metropolitan Battered Women Shelter during their time of crisis. For more information please call Makeda Peterson at 504-756-0938 or see our website at www.phenomenalwomenbookclub.com. If you would like to mail books please send them to the address below:
1901 Manhattan Blvd
Bldg F, Ste. 200
Harvey, LA 70058
"For of those to whom much is given, much is required" (Luke 12:48)
Makeda Peterson
Moderator
Phenomenal Women Book Club
504-756-0938
www.phenomenalwomenbookclub.com
Date Correction: Wear Red & Read Dessert Feb. 20, 2009
Barnes & Noble Booksellers & Atlanta Christian author, Dwan Abrams is hosting our first annual:Wear Red and Read Dessert
February 20. 2009
6:30 -8:30 pm
Atlanta localebrities set to perform:
- Passion Poet & Author, Hank Stewart
- and CCM musical artist B. David(Destiny Praise)
Cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory & Starbucks Coffee will be on hand
Sales proceeds in the store and the Starbucks cafe during the benefit will go to the American Heart Associations Go Red Campaign.
To learn more about Go Red or to RSVP to this event, click here. (The first 2o RSVPs will receive a free gift.)
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Atlanta's Wear Red & Read Dessert
Barnes & Noble Booksellers & Atlanta Christian author, Dwan Abrams is hosting our first annual:Wear Red and Read Dessert
February 20. 2009
6:30 -8:30 pm
Atlanta localebrities set to perform:
- Passion Poet & Author, Hank Stewart
- and CCM musical artist B. David(Destiny Praise)
Cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory & Starbucks Coffee will be on hand
Sales proceeds in the store and the Starbucks cafe during the benefit will go to the American Heart Associations Go Red Campaign.
To learn more about Go Red or to RSVP to this event, click here. (The first 2o RSVPs will receive a free gift.)
Sunday, February 15, 2009
I found a love note from God: The Color Purple
Happy Lover's Weekend. Yesterday I missed my chance to participate in Faith' n Fiction Saturdays. But I loved the question so much I thought I would respond and ask you to participate with me as well. So there's the question: Besides the Bible, have you ever read a book that taught you, reminded you, or encouraged you about God's love for you in a new or deep way? It can be fiction or non-fiction.
When I was thirteen I was introduced to Alice Walker's A Color Purple. This novel is the story of a southern woman named Celie, who wrote letters to God to survive years of abuse, tragedy and lack of sense of self. One of my favorite lines in the novel is:
I think it pisses God off when you walk by the color purple in a field and don't notice it.This line was like a lightbulb moment for me. I never wondered how God felt about things. I was always concerned about what God didn't do for me. But what about what I didn't do for Him? I also thought about all the great things God made just for me to relish like the smell of magnolias or the way a boy's dimple made me giggle, these things that only God knows that makes me happy. I begin to feel like God wanted me and for a little girl, it is a good thing to know.
In what books have you found a love note from God?
Friday, February 13, 2009
Karen Kingsbury This Side of Heaven, Excerpt
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today's Wild Card author is:
and the book:
Center Street (January 6, 2009)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
New York Times bestselling author Karen Kingsbury is America's #1 inspirational novelist. She's written more than thirty novels, ten of which have hit #1 on bestseller lists, and her Center Street novel Just Beyond the Clouds hit #13 on the New York Times bestseller list. There are nearly seven million copies of her award-winning books in print, including more than two million copies sold last year alone. She lives in Washington state with her husband, Don, and their six children, three of whom are adopted from Haiti.Visit the author's website.
Product Details:
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 352 pages
Publisher: Center Street (January 6, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1599956780
ISBN-13: 978-1599956787
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Christian Fiction News: 2008 Christian Book Sales Rise & Fall
Are Christian Books Selling?
During December, bookstore sales fell 4.7% to $2.051 billion--down for the fourth month in a row--according to preliminary estimates from the Census Bureau. In November, bookstore sales fell 13% compared to the same period a year earlier...Religious books rose 3.5% to $49.3 million (down 7.6% for the year). Source: Shelf Awareness Question: How many Christian books in the religion character make up this number?
Christian Book Expo
I read through all the workshops and panel discussions, but didn't see one panel or workshop that spoke to me. Your Thoughts.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
5 Ways to Support your Favorite Author for Free
We're in a money crunch, but we love books, and if you're an avid reader like me you find yourself buying books despite your budget. For instance, in thirty minutes I'm heading to my daughter's school book fair to what? by some books.
But do you know there are some very cheap things you can do to support author...for free? Aw, yeah, baby:
- Call your local bookstore and pre-order the book. What this does is ensures that your author's book will be sitting in the store for you to buy when your payroll check clears and it also alerts the store that your author is worthy of shelf space. And bonus, you are giving your local bookstore some love. They love to know that all bookbuyers aren't just using Amazon.
- take a pic of you and your favorite book in the bookstore and then email it to your friends with the bookstore, Walmart, whatev location or send it on twitpic or facebook. You become a viral marketer for your fave author. If you do this, let me know.
- Ask you local library to stock the title. Libraries want to be sure that they are housing titles that is relevant to their community. If you can't afford to purchase, know that your local public library can.
- Host a school book fair through Barnes & Noble as a PTA fundraiser. If you are a member of the National PTA, you can chair the Media Services division. National PTA loves great fundraising ideas. For free you can build a school book fundraiser through your local Barnes & Noble. Ask that they stock your favorite author as an adult title for parents.
- Become a blog book reviewer. You can review books for free, if you own a book blog, which is also free. Publishing houses and publicists like myself will send you your fave author book in exchange for a review.
Win a Box of Sees Candies for Valentine's Day: Christian Fiction Blog
Laying Your Burdens Down
Have you ever been so overwhelmed with your circumstances, you can't even fathom trying to praise the Lord? Your circumstances are in your face and that seed of doubt and despair has taken root in your heart. But at some point, the burdens are just too much to bear. Today, continue to listen to Denise' story.
ONLY IF YOU HAVE TROUBLE WITH THE PLAYER, USE THE DOWNLOAD LINK BELOW
Click here to listen to audio excerpt ...
Are you burdened today? In 1 Peter 5:7, it says to "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." How will Denise continue to try to hold it together - all in the pursuit of protecting her husband's image? We hope you will purchase Illusions to learn more about Denise' story. Leave your comments below and let us know your thoughts.
THIS WEEK: Celebrate Wanda's birthday & Valentine's Day
This week's winner will receive A Box of Sees Candies and a coupon for a FREE print design (choose a bookmark, postcard or business card) courtesy of Tywebbin Creations. Winner are responsible for printing.
Check Wanda B. Campbell's blog for the winners.
ABOUT THE BOOK
After three years of marriage, Denise Hightower discovers that her husband, Pastor Bryce Hightower, has a secret addiction that not only jeopardizes his marriage, but impairs his ability to effectively preach the gospel.
Yielding to pressure from her mother and her husband, Denise agrees to keep his addiction a secret, although her self-esteem plummets. Her life as the perfect First Lady is falling apart at the seams. Denise suffers in silence until she is confronted with the addiction from a trusted member of the church.
Self-centered and determined to uphold his pastoral image, Bryce is oblivious to his wife's emotional state. He's convinced that he can overcome his "little problem" on his own, so he rejects the spiritual help God sends him. But when his secret is discovered, will he be able to come clean with himself, God, and his congregation before he loses it all?
For more information about Wanda, visit her at wandabcampbell.net.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
John's Quest: Christian Fiction Blog
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today's Wild Card author is:
and the book:
John's Quest (Maryland Wedding Series #1)
Barbour Publishing, Inc (2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Cecelia Dowdy is a world traveler who has been an avid reader for as long as she can remember. When she first read Christian fiction, she felt called to write for the genre.She loves to read, write, and bake desserts in her spare time. Currently she resides with her husband and young son in Maryland.Don't miss the second book in the Maryland Wedding Series, Milk Money!
Visit the author's website and blog.
Product Details:
Mass Market Paperback: 170 pages
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc (2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1602600066
ISBN-13: 978-1602600065
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
The loud banging at Monica Crawford’s front door awakened her. Forcing herself out of bed, she glanced at the clock and saw it was two in the morning.
“I’m coming!”
She ran to the door. Looking through the peephole, Monica saw her little sister Gina smiling at her.
Her heart pounded as she opened the door, gripping the knob. “What are you doing here?” Playing an internal game of tug-of-war, she wondered if she should hug her sister or slam the door in her face. Humid heat rushed into the air-conditioned living room. She stared at Gina, still awaiting her response.
“It’s nice to see you too, sister.” Gina pursed her full, red-painted lips and motioned at the child standing beside her. “Go on in, Scotty.”
Gina had brought her seven-year-old son with her. Dark shades hid his sightless eyes. “Aunt Monica!” he called.
Monica released a small cry as she dropped to her knees and embraced him. “I’m here, Scotty.” Tears slid down her cheeks as she hugged the child. Since Gina had cut herself off from immediate family for the last two years, Monica had wondered when she would see Scotty again. “You remember me?” Her heart continued to pound as she stared at her nephew. His light, coffee-colored skin glowed.
“Yeah, I remember you. When mom said I was going to live here, I wanted to come so we could go to the beach in Ocean City.”
Shocked, Monica stared at Gina who was rummaging through her purse. Gina pulled out a cigarette and lighter. Seconds later she was puffing away, gazing into the living room. “You got an ashtray?”
Monica silently prayed, hoping she wouldn’t lose her temper. “Gina, you know I don’t allow smoking in this house.”
Gina shrugged. After a bit of coaxing, she dropped the cigarette on the top step and ground it beneath the heel of her shoe. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Scotty entered the house and wandered through the room, ignoring the adults as he touched objects with his fingers. After Monica fed Scotty a snack and let him fall asleep in the guest bedroom, she confronted Gina.
“Where have you been for the last two years?”
Gina strutted around the living room in her tight jeans, her high heels making small imprints in the plush carpet. “I’ve been around. I was mad because Mom and Dad tried to get custody of Scotty, tried to take me to court and say I was an unfit mother.”
Groaning, Monica plopped onto the couch, holding her head in her hands. “That’s why you haven’t been speaking to me or Mom and Dad for two years?” When Gina sat beside her, Monica took her sister’s chin into her hand and looked into her eyes. “You know you were wrong. Mom and Dad tried to find you. They were worried about Scotty.”
Jerking away, Gina placed a few inches between herself and Monica. “They might have cared about Scotty, but they didn’t care about me.” Gina swore under her breath and rummaged in her purse. Removing a mint, she popped it into her mouth.
“They were worried about you and Scotty,” Monica explained. “You were living with that terrible man. He didn’t work, and he was high on drugs. We didn’t want anything to happen to the two of you.”
Gina’s lips curled into a bitter smirk. “Humph. Me and Scotty are just fine.” She glanced up the stairs. “You saw him. Does he look neglected to you?”
She continued to stare at Gina, still not believing she was here to visit in the middle of the night. “What do you want? What did Scotty mean when he said he was coming here to live?”
Gina frowned as she toyed with the strap of her purse. “I want you to keep Scotty for me. Will you?”
Monica jerked back. “What? Why can’t you take care of your own son? Did that crackhead you were living with finally go off the deep end?”
Gina shook her head. “No, we’re not even together anymore. It’s just that. . .” She paused, staring at the crystal vase of red roses adorning the coffee table. “I’m getting married.”
Monica’s heart skipped a beat. “Married?”
Gina nodded, her long minibraids moving with the motion of her head. “Yeah, his name is Randy, and he’s outside now, waiting for me in the car.”
Monica raised her eyebrows, suddenly suspicious. “Why didn’t you bring him inside? Are you ashamed of him?”
Gina shook her head. “No. But we’re in a hurry tonight, and I didn’t want to waste time with formalities.”
“You still haven’t told me why you can’t keep Scotty. Does your fiancé have a problem with having a blind child in his house?”
Gina scowled as she clutched her purse, her dark eyes darting around the room. “No, that’s not it at all.”
“Uh-huh, whatever you say.” She could always sense when Gina was lying. Her body language said it all.
“Really, it’s not Scotty’s blindness that bothers Randy. It’s just that—he’s a trapeze artist in the National African-American Circus and they’re traveling around constantly.” Her dark eyes lit up as she talked about her fiancé. “This year they’ll be going international. Can you imagine me traveling around the globe with Randy? We’ll be going to Paris, London, Rome—all those fancy European places!” She grabbed Monica’s arm. “We’d love to take Scotty, but we can’t afford to hire a tutor for him to travel with us.”
“You’re going to marry some man and travel with a circus?!” Monica shook her head, wondering when her sister would grow up. At twenty-seven, she acted as if she were still a teenager. Since Monica was ten years older, she’d always been the responsible sibling, making sure Gina behaved herself.
Gina grabbed Monica’s shoulder. “But I’m in love with him!” Her eyes slid over Monica as if assessing her. “You’ve never been in love? I think it’s odd that you’re thirty-seven and you never got married.”
Monica closed her eyes for a brief second as thoughts of her single life filled her mind. Since her breakup with her serious boyfriend two years ago, she’d accepted that God wanted her to remain single, and she spent her free time at church in various ministries. She filled her time praising God and serving Him, and she had no regrets for the life she led. But whenever one of the church sisters announced an engagement, she couldn’t stop the pang of envy that sliced through her.
Forcing the thoughts from her mind, she focused on Gina again. “This discussion is not about me. It’s about you. You can’t abandon Scotty. He loves you.”
Gina turned away, as if ashamed of her actions. “I know he does, and I love him, too. But I really want things to work out with Randy, and it won’t work with Scotty on the road with us. He needs special education since he’s blind.”
Her heart immediately went out to Scotty. She touched Gina’s shoulder. “Scotty knows you’re getting married?”
Gina nodded. “I didn’t tell him how long I would be gone, but I told him I’d call and visit. Please do this for me.” Her sister touched her arm, and her dark eyes pleaded with her. She opened her purse and gave Monica some papers. “I’ve already had the power of attorney papers signed and notarized so that you can take care of him.” She pressed the papers into Monica’s hand.
“How long will you be gone?” asked Monica.
“The power of attorney lasts for six months. Hopefully by then me and Randy will be more settled. I’m hoping after the world tour he’ll leave the circus and find a regular job.”
Monica frowned, still clutching the legal documents.
“Please do this for me, Monica,” she pleaded again.
She reluctantly nodded. If she didn’t take care of Scotty, she didn’t know who would.
“I’m coming!”
She ran to the door. Looking through the peephole, Monica saw her little sister Gina smiling at her.
Her heart pounded as she opened the door, gripping the knob. “What are you doing here?” Playing an internal game of tug-of-war, she wondered if she should hug her sister or slam the door in her face. Humid heat rushed into the air-conditioned living room. She stared at Gina, still awaiting her response.
“It’s nice to see you too, sister.” Gina pursed her full, red-painted lips and motioned at the child standing beside her. “Go on in, Scotty.”
Gina had brought her seven-year-old son with her. Dark shades hid his sightless eyes. “Aunt Monica!” he called.
Monica released a small cry as she dropped to her knees and embraced him. “I’m here, Scotty.” Tears slid down her cheeks as she hugged the child. Since Gina had cut herself off from immediate family for the last two years, Monica had wondered when she would see Scotty again. “You remember me?” Her heart continued to pound as she stared at her nephew. His light, coffee-colored skin glowed.
“Yeah, I remember you. When mom said I was going to live here, I wanted to come so we could go to the beach in Ocean City.”
Shocked, Monica stared at Gina who was rummaging through her purse. Gina pulled out a cigarette and lighter. Seconds later she was puffing away, gazing into the living room. “You got an ashtray?”
Monica silently prayed, hoping she wouldn’t lose her temper. “Gina, you know I don’t allow smoking in this house.”
Gina shrugged. After a bit of coaxing, she dropped the cigarette on the top step and ground it beneath the heel of her shoe. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Scotty entered the house and wandered through the room, ignoring the adults as he touched objects with his fingers. After Monica fed Scotty a snack and let him fall asleep in the guest bedroom, she confronted Gina.
“Where have you been for the last two years?”
Gina strutted around the living room in her tight jeans, her high heels making small imprints in the plush carpet. “I’ve been around. I was mad because Mom and Dad tried to get custody of Scotty, tried to take me to court and say I was an unfit mother.”
Groaning, Monica plopped onto the couch, holding her head in her hands. “That’s why you haven’t been speaking to me or Mom and Dad for two years?” When Gina sat beside her, Monica took her sister’s chin into her hand and looked into her eyes. “You know you were wrong. Mom and Dad tried to find you. They were worried about Scotty.”
Jerking away, Gina placed a few inches between herself and Monica. “They might have cared about Scotty, but they didn’t care about me.” Gina swore under her breath and rummaged in her purse. Removing a mint, she popped it into her mouth.
“They were worried about you and Scotty,” Monica explained. “You were living with that terrible man. He didn’t work, and he was high on drugs. We didn’t want anything to happen to the two of you.”
Gina’s lips curled into a bitter smirk. “Humph. Me and Scotty are just fine.” She glanced up the stairs. “You saw him. Does he look neglected to you?”
She continued to stare at Gina, still not believing she was here to visit in the middle of the night. “What do you want? What did Scotty mean when he said he was coming here to live?”
Gina frowned as she toyed with the strap of her purse. “I want you to keep Scotty for me. Will you?”
Monica jerked back. “What? Why can’t you take care of your own son? Did that crackhead you were living with finally go off the deep end?”
Gina shook her head. “No, we’re not even together anymore. It’s just that. . .” She paused, staring at the crystal vase of red roses adorning the coffee table. “I’m getting married.”
Monica’s heart skipped a beat. “Married?”
Gina nodded, her long minibraids moving with the motion of her head. “Yeah, his name is Randy, and he’s outside now, waiting for me in the car.”
Monica raised her eyebrows, suddenly suspicious. “Why didn’t you bring him inside? Are you ashamed of him?”
Gina shook her head. “No. But we’re in a hurry tonight, and I didn’t want to waste time with formalities.”
“You still haven’t told me why you can’t keep Scotty. Does your fiancé have a problem with having a blind child in his house?”
Gina scowled as she clutched her purse, her dark eyes darting around the room. “No, that’s not it at all.”
“Uh-huh, whatever you say.” She could always sense when Gina was lying. Her body language said it all.
“Really, it’s not Scotty’s blindness that bothers Randy. It’s just that—he’s a trapeze artist in the National African-American Circus and they’re traveling around constantly.” Her dark eyes lit up as she talked about her fiancé. “This year they’ll be going international. Can you imagine me traveling around the globe with Randy? We’ll be going to Paris, London, Rome—all those fancy European places!” She grabbed Monica’s arm. “We’d love to take Scotty, but we can’t afford to hire a tutor for him to travel with us.”
“You’re going to marry some man and travel with a circus?!” Monica shook her head, wondering when her sister would grow up. At twenty-seven, she acted as if she were still a teenager. Since Monica was ten years older, she’d always been the responsible sibling, making sure Gina behaved herself.
Gina grabbed Monica’s shoulder. “But I’m in love with him!” Her eyes slid over Monica as if assessing her. “You’ve never been in love? I think it’s odd that you’re thirty-seven and you never got married.”
Monica closed her eyes for a brief second as thoughts of her single life filled her mind. Since her breakup with her serious boyfriend two years ago, she’d accepted that God wanted her to remain single, and she spent her free time at church in various ministries. She filled her time praising God and serving Him, and she had no regrets for the life she led. But whenever one of the church sisters announced an engagement, she couldn’t stop the pang of envy that sliced through her.
Forcing the thoughts from her mind, she focused on Gina again. “This discussion is not about me. It’s about you. You can’t abandon Scotty. He loves you.”
Gina turned away, as if ashamed of her actions. “I know he does, and I love him, too. But I really want things to work out with Randy, and it won’t work with Scotty on the road with us. He needs special education since he’s blind.”
Her heart immediately went out to Scotty. She touched Gina’s shoulder. “Scotty knows you’re getting married?”
Gina nodded. “I didn’t tell him how long I would be gone, but I told him I’d call and visit. Please do this for me.” Her sister touched her arm, and her dark eyes pleaded with her. She opened her purse and gave Monica some papers. “I’ve already had the power of attorney papers signed and notarized so that you can take care of him.” She pressed the papers into Monica’s hand.
“How long will you be gone?” asked Monica.
“The power of attorney lasts for six months. Hopefully by then me and Randy will be more settled. I’m hoping after the world tour he’ll leave the circus and find a regular job.”
Monica frowned, still clutching the legal documents.
“Please do this for me, Monica,” she pleaded again.
She reluctantly nodded. If she didn’t take care of Scotty, she didn’t know who would.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Is Your Love Overboard? Tips & Tickets Tonight on Media Candy: Christian Fiction Blog
Is your Love Overboard?
December 18, 2008 (Atlanta, GA) –82 million men and women in the United States are unmarried, 20 million are divorcees, 48 million have never been married (2000 US Census) and over 40 million Americans aged 19 to 45 have visited online dating sites (Us Report & World Report, 2003). Without a doubt, people are either looking for love, vowing to leave love alone or have become lost in love. But, numbers don’t lie and more people than not are throwing in the towel when it comes to relationships. Now, a new stage play has been created to look at love in a very humorous manner and address the state of love within our society. That new play is Je’Caryous Johnson’s “LOVE OVERBOARD.”
Join the Real Talk Relationship Crew & Bestselling Author/Movie Producer Reshonda Tate Billingsley share some real results relationship talk on Media Candy tonight. Our RTRC coming up by popular demand are married couple author Tiffany and Minister Brent Warren, Minister Myles Miller, and Certified NLP Master Practioner Ron Hudson.
Get your questions ready.
We are also giving tickets away to this national touring stage play.
Get your questions ready.
We are also giving tickets away to this national touring stage play.
Monday, February 09, 2009
5 Monday Tips for Promoting your Next Book Event:Christian Fiction Blog
Sure your publicist is going to invite her media contacts and pitch the event to the community at large before and after the event. The bookseller is going to alert their patrons, and special friend phone tree, but you must promote this event, too.
The #1 complaint I receive from bookstores, churches, festivals and bookclubs regarding booking authors at an event is that the author does little promotion of the event. I love my author friends and DGP teammembers. They are great souls who are not accustomed to this shift in artist as business owner yet. No problem. Here are five tips to help you and them promote your next local book event:
- Make a flyer of the event and submit it to an eblast service. Here in Atlanta Yalanda Lattimore's Dryer Buzz is a great online Atlanta event media hub that authors, artists and businesses can use to promote their event. Local news feeds pick up these events as well.
- If you can, visit the site three days before the event. Bring bookmarks to be placed on the counter. Bookstore staff will put the bookmarks in patrons bags reminding them of the event.
- Host a giveaway that ties into the store a neighboring store. Host a giveaway to the next hottest movie in the nearby mall, or a free cheesecake at the instore Starbucks, or a free manicure at the local nail shop. Set this giveaway table in front of the store or at the entrance to driver passserbys inside.
- Take a fishbowl to the store and giveaway a free book and lunch with the author. Provide slips of paper or your book business cards for patrons to write their name & contact info on. Do the drawing before the event and contact the winner, so they can eat with you after or before the event, preferably before.
- Invite your favorite local bookstore for coffee at the bookstore site or nearby. Mobilize this group to promote your event with free Arcs or free books or free coffee. Get them invested in your success.
- And a bonus tip. Make a short viral evite for your family to pass onto their family and friends via facebook.
Dee Stewart is a bookseller, multimedia journalist, novelist, publicist and now talk show host. She is also inspirational book reviewer for Romantic Times Magazine, Atlanta Satellite Bookseller for The Mocha Bookstores, and owner of Christian Fiction Blog. Her writings have appeared in: Spirit Led Woman, Gospel Today, Advanced Christian Writer, Atlanta Christian Family, Mosaic Literary, Precious Times, Vertical Fix just a few. In 2009 she will begin hosting book marketing coaching sessions for Christian artists. Follow her on Twitter at DeeGospel. Or visit her site at www.deestewart.com.Don't forget every Tuesday at 8pm EST join Dee and her gal pal, EIC of Good Girl Book Club Magazine, Marina Woods on Media Candy. It's a current events talk radio show discussing book publishing, media, and Christian entertainment from a progressive Christian point of view.
The Husband Project: Christian Fiction Blog
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today's Wild Card author is:
and the book:
Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2009)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Kathi Lipp is a busy conference and retreat speaker, currently speaking more than 45 times each year to thousands of women. Lipp is also a contributing author to two bestselling books: Humor for a Woman’s Heart 2 and Lists to Live By: The Christian Collection. She also has had articles published in several magazines, including Today’s Christian Woman and Discipleship Journal. Kathi and her husband, Roger, are the parents of four teenagers and live in California.Visit the author's website.
Product Details:
List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 208 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736925228
ISBN-13: 978-0736925228
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Why the Husband Project?
“Kathi, a couple of us need to quit the project.”
I couldn’t believe what Angela was saying. Quit the Husband Project? We’d just started that weekend.
“Ang, are you kidding me? Why do you want to quit already?” There was no way things could be going downhill so quickly.
“I was talking to some of the other girls, and because we’re being so nice, our husbands are becoming suspicious. They think we’re all having affairs!”
Apparently, there’s a bigger need for the Husband Project than even I could have expected.
The Beginning of the Husband Project
At my busy church in San Jose, California, I serve in a variety of roles. Some of the roles I have played have been on the programming team with my husband, Roger, who is the director of the Worship Arts Ministry, leading Bible studies and small groups and taking meals to people who are sick or having babies. But my favorite role by far is mentoring women.
The girls I mentor are smart, funny, and committed to serving God. They really are amazing. However, like most wives I know, they have a tendency to “share” about their husbands.
“He’s never home. I feel like I’m single – but with an extra person to clean up after.”
“Why is it when he’s watching our kids it’s babysitting?”
“We used to be romantic, but now our idea of romance is reading take-out menus together.”
The “sharing” started to concern me. I wasn’t judging these girls; trust me. I found myself slipping every once in a while – saying something “endearing” about my husband while rolling my eyes.
A Change in Perspective
I know the importance of loving and honoring my husband, and like every other lesson in my life, I learned it the hard way. (Why can’t I ever learn things while eating chocolates and shopping…?)
I married in my early twenties’ with two babies came along shortly after the marriage vows. In retrospect, I can see that as soon as discovered the wonders of a Diaper Genie, my concentration shifted from my husband to the day-to-day care of my kids. With a full-time job thrown in, the goal of making my husband feel special dropped way down on my priority list.
After a very painful marriage and divorce, I am now remarried to an amazing guy. When new friends meet him they say, “Oh, so this is Prince Charming!” He’s a great father and step dad, and loves me and his God and indulges my passion for fat-free coconut yogurt on a regular basis. I really couldn’t ask for a better guy.
And, yet, like a great pair of comfortable flip flops, he’s sometimes easy to take him for granted. He’s always there - not demanding anything of me. He can fix his own frozen pizza when I am too busy to cook and can even wash his own socks in a pinch. When work deadlines loom and kids have dozens of activities, I sometimes let my relationship with Rog fall to sixth or seventh on my “Hey, pay attention to me!” list.
Have you noticed our culture has a one-way expectation that men should give women what they “need” (sending flowers to work, doing his share of the dirty work around the house, being a great dad, remembering and celebrating anniversaries) without asking for anything in return? But, as we know, this fantasy man isn’t real a husband, it’s a character in a dime store romance novel.
The kind of marriage I want is one in which we’re both doing all we can to honor and love each other, putting each other’s needs above our own.
Philippians 2:3-4 says it best: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.”
I want this for both of us. The reality is, however, I only have control over my own actions.
Enter the Husband Project
I tried different ideas with some of my friends at church – a variety of “husband encouragement programs.” Most seemed like a lot of work and not much fun. You see, I have the attention span of a third-grader who’s just spent six straight hours on X-Box. So I needed something short, doable and exciting. We, as stressed-out and over-worked wives and moms, don’t need to feel burdened by another line on our to-do lists.
So I started thinking and praying about what would truly make my husband feel loved (and maybe even lucky to be married to me.) I made up a list and began practicing on Roger. Some of the ideas (buying him a gift card to his favorite restaurant and surprising him with an impromptu date) were big hits. Others (like opening mystery clues for an all day adventure) were, let’s say, less than successful.
After several flops (hey, I thought the guys at his work would think that his lunch sack covered in hearts was adorable…) I finally got desperate. I asked him, “Okay, what would make you feel loved?” (And yes, I felt pretty pathetic to be asking.) After showing him the list, he gave me thumbs up or down on several of the items. I now had a much clearer plan in place. No, cookies in the shapes of bunnies were not necessary. Homemade raw cookie dough, however, was a big thumbs up. Yes, I asked the questions. I have gone where women fear to tread. I am in possession of the knowledge of what men (or at least my man) like.
This is how The Husband Project was born.
The premise is simple:
You, and two other friends (your accountability partners) commit to bless your husbands everyday for three weeks, in secret.
That’s it. Pretty simple, granted. But not always easy.
No Cookie-Cutter Marriages
While working on the Projects, I talked with friends of all ages, in very different marital situations.
Some of my friends were in the oh-so-romantic stage of marriage. You’re just done in by how beautifully he shaves. As you pick up his clothes from the bedroom floor, you just can’t help but giggle at how adorable it is that he never puts anything away.
On the other side of the spectrum, I have girlfriends who cannot stand to be in the same room with their husbands while they’re breathing. The “inhale, exhale” is enough to make them want to take up residence at a nice studio apartment in town.
And then, there are the other 94% of us.
We’re the ones who love our husbands but have fallen into a comfortable routine. (Comfortable often meaning, you don’t bug me and I won’t bug you.) We’re partners in parenting and contributors to financial matters. We’ve negotiated the household chores (I’ll do the dishes if you keep the car from making funny noises,) and keep each other on schedule for the dentist and the occasional oil change.
We like our husbands, for the most part. And they like us, for the most part. While this is okay, it’s definitely not what we were anticipating as we planned our weddings and dreamed about our happily-ever-after lives.
I have to admit, I’m writing this book for me and my friends – the 94% who want better relationships with our men and are willing to be creative, thoughtful, and possibly daring enough to break out some lingerie to get it.
“But He Doesn’t Even Notice”
Some women who have tried the Projects for a few days wondered if it’s even worth it. After doing several of the Projects, they complained that their husbands have barely noticed.
So, if you’re wearing your cute jeans to meet your husband in the evenings, leaving bags of gummi bears for him in his car, and wearing shorter and shorter lingerie to bed each night without comment from your man, don’t be discouraged.
Working The Husband Project is a lot like working on your prayer life. For example, I recently committed to setting aside a chunk of time daily to pray. As I devote more time to prayer and meditation, I’m realizing that my requests are less about asking God to make things go my way, and more about asking God to change my heart to follow Him and His plans for me.
This project is as much about changing our attitudes as it is about blessing our husbands. It’s great to get positive reinforcement, and when you do, write it down so you can remember it and tailor the way that you show your love in the future.
But even when your husband says nothing, you have the knowledge that you have actively shown him love and support. That’s the true gift of The Husband Project.
If you still need some affirmation (and who doesn’t?) look for it in other healthy places. In my case I have a friend, Lynn, who sends me a small gift whenever I complete a goal for writing. Even if I don’t sell an article, I still have the hope of some great Snoopy stickers in the mail.
Ask your accountability partners to celebrate your successes with you. Perhaps, if each of you does your daily project for seven days, you give each other a $5 Starbucks card, or if you do all 21 days, you all spend an afternoon together at the spa. Be creative, as it says in Hebrews 10:24, “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.” A grande latte could be an excellent way to start.
“Kathi, a couple of us need to quit the project.”
I couldn’t believe what Angela was saying. Quit the Husband Project? We’d just started that weekend.
“Ang, are you kidding me? Why do you want to quit already?” There was no way things could be going downhill so quickly.
“I was talking to some of the other girls, and because we’re being so nice, our husbands are becoming suspicious. They think we’re all having affairs!”
Apparently, there’s a bigger need for the Husband Project than even I could have expected.
The Beginning of the Husband Project
At my busy church in San Jose, California, I serve in a variety of roles. Some of the roles I have played have been on the programming team with my husband, Roger, who is the director of the Worship Arts Ministry, leading Bible studies and small groups and taking meals to people who are sick or having babies. But my favorite role by far is mentoring women.
The girls I mentor are smart, funny, and committed to serving God. They really are amazing. However, like most wives I know, they have a tendency to “share” about their husbands.
“He’s never home. I feel like I’m single – but with an extra person to clean up after.”
“Why is it when he’s watching our kids it’s babysitting?”
“We used to be romantic, but now our idea of romance is reading take-out menus together.”
The “sharing” started to concern me. I wasn’t judging these girls; trust me. I found myself slipping every once in a while – saying something “endearing” about my husband while rolling my eyes.
A Change in Perspective
I know the importance of loving and honoring my husband, and like every other lesson in my life, I learned it the hard way. (Why can’t I ever learn things while eating chocolates and shopping…?)
I married in my early twenties’ with two babies came along shortly after the marriage vows. In retrospect, I can see that as soon as discovered the wonders of a Diaper Genie, my concentration shifted from my husband to the day-to-day care of my kids. With a full-time job thrown in, the goal of making my husband feel special dropped way down on my priority list.
After a very painful marriage and divorce, I am now remarried to an amazing guy. When new friends meet him they say, “Oh, so this is Prince Charming!” He’s a great father and step dad, and loves me and his God and indulges my passion for fat-free coconut yogurt on a regular basis. I really couldn’t ask for a better guy.
And, yet, like a great pair of comfortable flip flops, he’s sometimes easy to take him for granted. He’s always there - not demanding anything of me. He can fix his own frozen pizza when I am too busy to cook and can even wash his own socks in a pinch. When work deadlines loom and kids have dozens of activities, I sometimes let my relationship with Rog fall to sixth or seventh on my “Hey, pay attention to me!” list.
Have you noticed our culture has a one-way expectation that men should give women what they “need” (sending flowers to work, doing his share of the dirty work around the house, being a great dad, remembering and celebrating anniversaries) without asking for anything in return? But, as we know, this fantasy man isn’t real a husband, it’s a character in a dime store romance novel.
The kind of marriage I want is one in which we’re both doing all we can to honor and love each other, putting each other’s needs above our own.
Philippians 2:3-4 says it best: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.”
I want this for both of us. The reality is, however, I only have control over my own actions.
Enter the Husband Project
I tried different ideas with some of my friends at church – a variety of “husband encouragement programs.” Most seemed like a lot of work and not much fun. You see, I have the attention span of a third-grader who’s just spent six straight hours on X-Box. So I needed something short, doable and exciting. We, as stressed-out and over-worked wives and moms, don’t need to feel burdened by another line on our to-do lists.
So I started thinking and praying about what would truly make my husband feel loved (and maybe even lucky to be married to me.) I made up a list and began practicing on Roger. Some of the ideas (buying him a gift card to his favorite restaurant and surprising him with an impromptu date) were big hits. Others (like opening mystery clues for an all day adventure) were, let’s say, less than successful.
After several flops (hey, I thought the guys at his work would think that his lunch sack covered in hearts was adorable…) I finally got desperate. I asked him, “Okay, what would make you feel loved?” (And yes, I felt pretty pathetic to be asking.) After showing him the list, he gave me thumbs up or down on several of the items. I now had a much clearer plan in place. No, cookies in the shapes of bunnies were not necessary. Homemade raw cookie dough, however, was a big thumbs up. Yes, I asked the questions. I have gone where women fear to tread. I am in possession of the knowledge of what men (or at least my man) like.
This is how The Husband Project was born.
The premise is simple:
You, and two other friends (your accountability partners) commit to bless your husbands everyday for three weeks, in secret.
That’s it. Pretty simple, granted. But not always easy.
No Cookie-Cutter Marriages
While working on the Projects, I talked with friends of all ages, in very different marital situations.
Some of my friends were in the oh-so-romantic stage of marriage. You’re just done in by how beautifully he shaves. As you pick up his clothes from the bedroom floor, you just can’t help but giggle at how adorable it is that he never puts anything away.
On the other side of the spectrum, I have girlfriends who cannot stand to be in the same room with their husbands while they’re breathing. The “inhale, exhale” is enough to make them want to take up residence at a nice studio apartment in town.
And then, there are the other 94% of us.
We’re the ones who love our husbands but have fallen into a comfortable routine. (Comfortable often meaning, you don’t bug me and I won’t bug you.) We’re partners in parenting and contributors to financial matters. We’ve negotiated the household chores (I’ll do the dishes if you keep the car from making funny noises,) and keep each other on schedule for the dentist and the occasional oil change.
We like our husbands, for the most part. And they like us, for the most part. While this is okay, it’s definitely not what we were anticipating as we planned our weddings and dreamed about our happily-ever-after lives.
I have to admit, I’m writing this book for me and my friends – the 94% who want better relationships with our men and are willing to be creative, thoughtful, and possibly daring enough to break out some lingerie to get it.
“But He Doesn’t Even Notice”
Some women who have tried the Projects for a few days wondered if it’s even worth it. After doing several of the Projects, they complained that their husbands have barely noticed.
So, if you’re wearing your cute jeans to meet your husband in the evenings, leaving bags of gummi bears for him in his car, and wearing shorter and shorter lingerie to bed each night without comment from your man, don’t be discouraged.
Working The Husband Project is a lot like working on your prayer life. For example, I recently committed to setting aside a chunk of time daily to pray. As I devote more time to prayer and meditation, I’m realizing that my requests are less about asking God to make things go my way, and more about asking God to change my heart to follow Him and His plans for me.
This project is as much about changing our attitudes as it is about blessing our husbands. It’s great to get positive reinforcement, and when you do, write it down so you can remember it and tailor the way that you show your love in the future.
But even when your husband says nothing, you have the knowledge that you have actively shown him love and support. That’s the true gift of The Husband Project.
If you still need some affirmation (and who doesn’t?) look for it in other healthy places. In my case I have a friend, Lynn, who sends me a small gift whenever I complete a goal for writing. Even if I don’t sell an article, I still have the hope of some great Snoopy stickers in the mail.
Ask your accountability partners to celebrate your successes with you. Perhaps, if each of you does your daily project for seven days, you give each other a $5 Starbucks card, or if you do all 21 days, you all spend an afternoon together at the spa. Be creative, as it says in Hebrews 10:24, “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.” A grande latte could be an excellent way to start.
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